


If I Loved You Less

by MoonlightShines (Thatkillervibe)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 5x03, 5x04, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Caitlin loves Cisco but he did her a SCARE, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, KillerVibe - Freeform, how many times can I use the word drunk in a fic, reaction fic, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkillervibe/pseuds/MoonlightShines
Summary: Barry overheard the conversation, having walked into the cortex five minutes ago.“Why were you on the phone with Cisco’s mother? Is his shoulder doing worse?”Caitlin turned to him, a thin line of worry across her face. “No,” she said. “He never went home.”





	If I Loved You Less

**Author's Note:**

> An anon prompted me: "Dunno if you accept anonymous prompts, but: Cait knows Cisco, and she knows he isn't going his parents' place even given his mood lately. So she tracks him down to comfort him in his near death but also to confront him about handling stress with alcohol."
> 
> So I spent this week perfecting it. This will have 2 chapters, so don't yell at me for leaving it incomplete :)

 

_The night crept on apace, the moon went down, the stars grew pale and dim, and morning, cold as they, slowly approached - Charles Dickens_

 

_~.~_

 

“No, of course, Mrs. Ramon. I’ll let you know right away. Thank you so much, I promise I’m on it. Take care.” 

 

 Caitlin hung up the phone and stared straight ahead.

 

Honing intuition could take years to perfect, but once Caitlin stepped into the world of forensics, surrounding herself with CSIs and detectives and somewhat frequent danger, her knack for listening to her gut strengthened significantly. When Caitlin got a hunch nowadays it was almost always worth following. She was usually right.

 

This time she wished she wasn’t.

 

Barry overheard the conversation, having walked into the cortex five minutes ago.

 

“Why were you on the phone with Cisco’s mother? Is his shoulder doing worse?”

 

Caitlin turned to him, a thin line of worry across her face. “No,” she said. “He never went home.”

 

“What do you mean he never went home?” Barry repeated slowly, perplexed.

 

“I mean,” Caitlin said tersely, standing up to shove her phone, wallet and charger into her purse, “He lied to us and now his mother is worried because I called asking to speak to him about a fractured collarbone she didn’t even know he had because he never went  _home_.”

 

Barry held out a finger, his universal “wait one second” sign, then flew out the room with a  _woosh_.

 

Before Caitlin walked three more steps forward, he returned, skidding down the hallway. “He’s not at his apartment.”

 

Fear prickled down her spine. “What if Cicada found out we faked his death? We have to—”

 

Barry sped to the computers and began to type furiously. “Already did. Obviously, the GPS in his suit will lead back to here since it’s in his workshop in tatters. And…” Barry looked up from the monitor. “His phone, tablet and laptop are deactivated.”

 

Caitlin swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I have to look for him,” she said.

 

Barry nodded, “I’ll go with you.”

 

His cellphone chimed. Barry grimaced at it.

 

“Oh…oh no. Iris is sending me a SOS Nora text. I’m so sorry, Caitlin, I need to play moderator. I promise to come help as soon as this is settled.”

 

Caitlin wished Barry would help her find Cisco considering it would make it a lot  _faster_ but she understood. Barry was, strange as it was, a father now, and his family needed him.

  
Just like how Caitlin’s family needed her. 

Barry walked Caitlin to her car then stopped to put an arm on her shoulder. He leveled his eyes, “Cait…Just—Cisco’s been a little off.”

 

“I know,” she admitted, opening the door and getting in. She buckled her seat belt and brushed a flyaway hair from her face. “That’s why I need to find him.”

 

He closed her car door and watched her put the vehicle in reverse to back out of her parking space.

 

A block later at the red light, Caitlin jumped to see The Flash knock on her window. She rolled it down.

 

“Be careful.” Barry said. 

  
  
Her face was grim. “I will.”

 

~.~

 

It took four hours, but she eventually found him—drunk—at his own vigil. Caitlin was terribly glad that he was safe—The fear that Cicada had him murdered for real finally put behind her. But she was also cold, tired and more than a little peeved.

 

“Cisco,” she hissed, after she had weaved through the crowd, tugging the empty sleeve of his jacket. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

 

Caitlin looked down at the Vibe shrine, her stomach twisting uneasily. It was haunting. Hundreds of teddy bears, flowers, candles, cards, posters and drawings by children with propped frames of newspaper clippings littered around the Team Flash plaque in Central City Park. She gave Cisco a sidelong glance. He looked near tears. This wasn’t making her feel good, and she wasn’t even the one it was for.

 

“Cisco this isn’t healthy, not to mention unsafe.”

 

“Callin,” he slurred, “Thanks for coming to my furenal.”

 

“This isn’t your funeral. This is a fake vigil for a fake death. I’m bringing you home.”

 

“Noooo,” he whined. “I need to thank the chill’ren for their pretty pictures.”

 

Caitlin steered him away, but he struggled against her.

 

“Cisco, come on, we need to go. You’re supposed to be laying low.”

 

Cisco’s lip trembled and he stumbled into Caitlin.

 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, trying to hold him steady, but he didn’t reply—Only burst into tears.  

 

“Okay,” she soothed, as he sobbed against her chest, frightened by his sudden outpour of emotion. “I’m here now. It’s going to be okay.”

 

“I’m  _dead_ ,” he cried, and Caitlin held him tightly, glaring at the gawking onlookers and passerby. What was their problem anyway, they go to a memorial and are surprised to see someone cry?

 

“You’re not dead,” she assured him, curling her fingers protectively into his hair. “You’re not dead.” 

 

His grief might have made her heart ache, and she’d always lend him a shoulder to cry on, but she was still very cross.

 

She walked him briskly to her car parked around the corner, fifteen minutes later when his vision was no longer blurry with tears and he was no longer at risk of causing enough racket at Central City Park’s Vibe vigil to be alerted as a public disturbance.

 

“Why are you walking so fast?” He complained, then tripped over a rock. She caught him by the arm before he hit concrete and he howled at the pressure it put on his injury.

 

She couldn’t  _believe_  he got this drunk while he was hurt.

 

“How much did you drink?”

 

Cisco squinted and made a vague gesture with his better hand. “Five….Four…?”

 

“Shots?” That wasn’t too terrible.

 

“….Bars….?”

 

Caitlin’s jaw dropped. _"Cisco_.”

 

“I kept telling the bartenders I was Vibe’s cousin so they gave me free drinks until they kicked me out.” His words all mushed together, but Caitlin somehow understood.

 

“How were you going to get home?” She yelled. He couldn’t drive obviously, not just because he was inebriated, but his phone was dead, nobody knew he was alone and she doubted he even remembered how to find a taxi.

 

Cisco opened his mouth.

 

“If you say you were going to breach I will  _smack_ you.”

 

Cisco closed his mouth.

 

Caitlin was so aggravated she wanted to pull out her hair. She buckled him into the passenger side, propping his head up against the window after asking at least half a dozen times if he felt sick. He kept denying nausea but she wasn’t sure if she believed him. 

 

She paused to call Barry to let him know that he could stop the search on the north side of Central City.

 

“I found him,” she said hurriedly in lieu of hello when the call connected.

 

She busied with cranking on the heat as Barry talked on the other line.

 

“Define ‘okay’,” she answered his question about his state, checking  him again, “He’s extremely drunk. Like, only meta level possibility of drunkenness.”

 

Cisco laughed defensively, “I’m not  _that_  drunk,” he declared.

 

“Oh yeah? What’s Einstein’s theory of relativity?”

 

Cisco thought very hard. “Why people are related?”

 

 _“Was that him?”_ Barry asked.

 

“You _are_ that drunk,” she told Cisco matter of factly.

 

“He’s drunk,” she repeated into the phone. “Imagine me doing karaoke and times that by ten —Hold on,” she said, then put her hand over the speaker. 

 

“Cisco put your seat belt back on.”

 

“No I wanna talk to Barry.” He was half in her lap. She pushed him away.

 

“You can talk to him tomorrow after you go to sleep.”

 

“Fine,” he grumbled, clicking the belt back on.

 

She returned to the call. “Sorry Barry, um, I’m going to take him to my place to watch over him. I’ll let you know if I need you, okay? I think I have this handled.”

 

Cisco grew somber on the ride to Caitlin’s apartment, whereas Caitlin focused on the road to prevent herself from seething over how  _stupid_ Cisco was to pull a stunt like this. 

 

When she brought him to her bed, after she made sure he wouldn’t die of alcohol poisoning, she gave him three tall glasses of water and watched him sink into her sheets.

 

“Why are you mad at me?” He asked in a small voice. He looked rather pitiful, and now that she had a proper private assessment of her own, Sherloque was right, his skin was beginning to show the signs of excessive alcohol abuse, and he had terrible bags.

 

Caitlin sighed. “We’re not having this conversation now.”

 

“But you’re mad at me!”

 

Caitlin sat on the side of the bed, brushing some of Cisco’s hair off his forehead to put in an elastic in case he got sick later.  “Cisco, I’m concerned, and you scared me very badly. But you’re exhausted and sad, and your collarbone is broken. So you need rest right now. We’ll talk about this later.” 

 

He grumbled a little bit but listened to her, all of the fight leaving his body.

 

She tapped him gently, avoiding his bad spots as his eyes drooped.

 

“Can you show me your back? I don’t think this brace is tight enough.”

 

She carefully rolled him over and inspected the stab wound, willing her mind back into the detached and clinical purpose of practicing medicine. It was quiet and late, her bedroom light dimmed almost all the way down and the curtains drawn.  Caitlin’s shoulders relaxed as she pressed lightly against the stitches and bruises on his soft, warm skin. She couldn’t help the thought about how easy and important it was for her to take care of Cisco, and how close Cicada was to never make that happen again.

 

When she had changed the linen wrapped around his hands and properly secured his new brace, she pulled the soft shirt back down and tucked him into bed. He was more awake now, eyes wandering around the room, probably disoriented as his brain tried to make sense of the fuzzy mess it has become.

 

Caitlin changed quickly into her pyjamas and wiped her makeup off in her en suite bathroom, making quick work of braiding her hair.

 

When she climbed into bed beside him, she closed her eyes and thought about her family, especially her father and Cisco.

 

One she has thought has been dead for over ten years until this week, the other nearly the opposite. Caitlin wasn’t fond of the irony.

 

What much more must she do to help them?

 

~.~

 

He began throwing up four hours later.

 

Caitlin leaned sleepily against the door frame of her bathroom as Cisco heaved into the toilet bowl, waiting for him to be finished.

 

He wiped his mouth and looked at her with his hallowed sunken eyes, reaching forward to take her proffered cup of mouthwash she had prepared since before they went to bed.

 

“I think I’m still drunk,” he croaked out, and covered his eyes with the palms of his hands with a whine. Caitlin frowned.

 

“Migraine?”

 

“Vibes,” he moaned. “Too much, too fast.”

 

Yeah, Caitlin thought back to his quip from two week ago.  _Don’t drink and vibe._

 

“Anything I can do?”

 

Cisco shook his head and threw up again.

 

~.~

 

Caitlin slept in. When she woke up, she sat up straight in her bed, a crack of bright sunlight spilled through her curtains and her hair tumbled down her back, loosening out of the braid. She rubbed the sleep out of her eye and glanced to her side. Cisco was not there, but he wasn’t far. He sat leaning against her bay windowsill, legs drawn up to his chest, swaddled in Caitlin’s quilted blanket that was previously rested over them in their sleep. His cheek was smushed against his knees as if he couldn’t hold it up without the support, and his hair hid half his face like a mask.

 

All of Caitlin’s anger washed away.

 

“Hi,” she said softly, knowing he was watching her. She slipped out of bed, dragging another blanket to wrap around herself, and joined him on the opposite side of the bay seat. Their toes pressed against each other as they both snuggly took up all the space.

 

Cisco finally raised his head, “Hi,” he said back. She looked up at her simple clock mounted on her wall. It was almost noon.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Hungover.”

 

“Do you remember anything from yesterday?”

 

He shrugged, looking down, too drowsy to look all that shameful, but she knew him. It was in his body language, his eyes, the way his good arm was wrapped protectively around the other beneath the quilt. 

 

“Caitlin, I—“

 

She stopped him abruptly. She wanted to know, she felt like she deserved it. She does. They will talk. If he doesn’t bring it up then she’ll make him. But that was for later.

 

“We don’t have to do this now.”

 

Cisco’s face was tragic.  “We don’t?”

 

Caitlin shook her head and dropped the blanket she’s been using as a security shield. “No.”

 

“Come here,” she said. And Cisco crawled immediately into her opened arms.

**Author's Note:**

> You know where you can find me: @thatkillervibe on tumblr. I don't bite! ;)


End file.
